


Pass It As You Please

by ken_ichijouji (dommific)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 5+1 Things, A Literal Record Scratch Can Heard at the One, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, F/M, Hope That Makes Up For it, Yuuko is Japan's Ace in One, you'll know when you get there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-07 02:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18400889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dommific/pseuds/ken_ichijouji
Summary: Yuuko looks at her girls, carrying on with Makkachin as if the dog isn’t far too old for this type of rough play. Her husband sits to her left with a bit of nervousness in his frown.The color commentator mentions something about tensile strength and acrylic boot laces, and the noise on the television as well as in the room around her begins to fade. They’ve all made their choices—the Katsukis, Yuuri, Victor, even Makkachin. A simple twist of fate can alter so much, like a different date of birth or country of origin.As the sound surrounding her becomes little more than white noise, Yuuko wonders …The five other lives Nishigori Yuuko could have lived. For Primadonna zine.





	Pass It As You Please

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thehandsingsweapon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehandsingsweapon/gifts).



It’s the final day of competition in the Grand Prix Final, and there’s downtime between ice dance and the start of the men’s free skate. The Zambonis have to smooth the ice again, the men need to warm up, and the announcers fill the arena in Barcelona with inane chatter Yuuko frustratedly recalls from her own halcyon competition days. 

It is hideously late (or early, depending on perspective), but here come six men. Two wear red and white warm up jackets, one white, blue, and gold, one red white and blue, one black with yellow, and the one that they’re all here for in the dining hall of his parents’ livelihood in black and bright blue.

They skate around the rink in circles to limber up, and Yuuko still tries to make sense of how badly Leroy fell to pieces the night before. All of their coaches stand behind the boards with varying degrees of severity on their faces. The camera pans close on Cialdini and Victor.

Victor looks oddly miserable, as well as sedate, compared to when Yuuri’s competed other times.

The warm up goes on weirdly long to her mind, the skaters doing a few jumps—nothing complicated, singles and doubles just to loosen their muscles, aside from Yurio who will never be told no—and she starts to drift away somewhere between Morooka’s blathering and Toshiya refilling everyone’s mugs with cold beer.

Yuuko looks at her girls, carrying on with Makkachin as if the dog isn’t far too old for this type of rough play. Her husband sits to her left with a bit of nervousness in his frown.

The color commentator mentions something about tensile strength and acrylic boot laces, and the noise on the television as well as in the room around her begins to fade. They’ve all made their choices—the Katsukis, Yuuri, Victor, even Makkachin. A simple twist of fate can alter so much, like a different date of birth or country of origin.

As the sound surrounding her becomes little more than white noise, Yuuko wonders …  

  
  


**_It could be this—_ **

 

  
In a land of Gods and Monsters, one maiden  is chosen every autumn as supplication for first fruits. 

Yuuko spends her days with the other young folk. She defends Yuuri from Takeshi’s more mean-spirited teasing, though as they grow that happens less and less. Takeshi becomes strong with a smile like the sun glimmering on the sea.  Yuuri is quiet on first glance, but he is no coward or fool, and his eyes are so bright when he’s happy.

Then halfway between her seventeenth and eighteenth year, Yuuko is chosen.

Tearful goodbyes are exchanged with her family, and then she is bathed only in perfumed water filled with citrus, fed only from an anointed garden without ever consuming meat, and educated in arts, poetry, and song. She is lovely and taught to be compassionate above all others, as well as wise beyond her years for the next two full seasons. Yuuko is not permitted much contact with her loved ones, for now she serves a higher purpose … but not one soul asked Yuuko if this purpose is what she  _ wants. _

Her life is now strangely lonely, and she’d much rather spend her days with her friends, enjoying her mother’s favorite stew, and perhaps becoming some kind of artisan.

The descent of the sun on her eighteenth year is her Time. She is to move into the temple for a minimum of a year in hopes she will be the one the Light chooses to ascend as his consort. Yuuko is adorned in gold dripping with blue gems, draped in vermillion silk, and after the rite is complete, locked into her wedding chamber.

The floor is strewn with silk pillows, the walls covered in heavy tapestries, and the only illumination within the chamber is from a circular entry for the Light to appear to her. The stars above seem close and bright, which signifies that he should appear soon to deem her worthiness. The last attempts have all failed, and he is growing displeased if their rice yields are any indicator.

Yuuko does not  _ want this _ but her people  _ need this _ , and so she kneels on a cushion beneath the center. She waits. She has waited for the last six months, so what is another hour or two?

Shortly before the black sky turns gray, living, golden stars begin to flit around her.

It is time.

He descends—rather, he  _ appears _ like a man made from the dawn itself. His long-hair flows like liquid sunbeams, his eyes blue flames, and he is tall and proud in robes crafted from white and pink light.

Yuuko’s mind turns briefly to Takeshi, who is solid like an ancient stone. The Light is resplendent, but he’s not really her type, she thinks. Not that it matters, of course, but … he’s fine. She finds this a bit anticlimactic, all told.

“Hi!” he chirps with an open smile shaped like a heart. Then he takes a longer look at her. He begins to frown. “Oh. Another girl, I guess.”

Yuuko raises an eyebrow.

The glamour fades, and he now has the features of a normal young man with particularly lustrous hair. “Oh it’s … I think a mistranslation of my edicts happened somewhere. Every year, it’s the same story. Beautiful maiden with intelligence and grace.” He winces. “You’re lovely. It’s just … I’m sure in this village somewhere there’s a lovely  _ boy _ , isn’t there?”

Yuuko narrows her eyes. The compounding annual misfortunes that befall their citizenry make more sense all of a sudden. “Is this why the harvests keep ending up short?”

The Light winces. “I suppose that’s a bit passive aggressive, and I don’t do enough to starve anyone but … yes. I just want a companion who will actually  _ move me _ .”

Yuuko will have a year in this room as his chosen bride before she will spend the rest of her life pampered and revered as a priestess. She can’t really think of something she wants less in light of this revelation. It was tolerable before since it was a means to achieve an end, but _now_ — “I am trapped in this temple with you until the year is over.”

“I know. I do feel guilty about this.” The Light sighs and tosses his hair over his shoulder. It’s a color that combines the pale yellow of cornsilk, pure white, and a light silver. He’s quite beautiful in a way that again makes her ponder Takeshi’s boyish laughter.

He is also  _ incredibly _ _ sad _ .

The Light gives her a shaky smile. “I could teach you nine men’s morris, if you like. You should also probably meet Makkachin since you’ll be here a while.”

The Hound of the Light is well-known, though Yuuko is ill-prepared for a glowing canine-creature of two meters from haunch to paw with a swirling nebula cloud for its coat. Still, she bowls Yuuko over with kisses to her supreme delight.

Yuuko considers the boys of her village while petting the Hound’s luminescent fur. Takeshi is probably not a good fit, and she doesn’t like the way the idea makes her feel, but  _ Yuuri _ …  Yuuri may work. While he can be more thoughtful, Yuuri has a surprisingly bright flame of passion coursing through his veins.

“You know, you can give the people the corrections, see if they can find a way to make you happier,” Yuuko says. “Find  _ someone _ who can make you happier.”

The Light considers this. “I don’t know how to do so without possibly making everyone feel ignorant. I shouldn’t have been so petty with the crop yields, and I’m unsure of how to explain.”

Yuuko’s thoughts return to Yuuri. “There’s a boy slightly younger than I am. We can just … pretend he was supposed to be picked instead. That’s a less humiliating clerical mistake, I think.”

“Hm,” the Light says as he thinks it over. “Tell me his name, and I’ll see how I feel.”

“He’s called Yuuri,” Yuuko offers.

“A similar name. Hm.” The god ponders for a few minutes. “Why not? I’ll be back in a little while,” he says as he shimmers out of the temple.

It’s the next sunset when he returns, Yuuko having busied herself with petting Makkachin and sleeping as she dare not hope for her freedom. The Light glows brighter than the day before with a radiance the same shade of fresh roses across his cheeks, and Yuuko is relieved at his exclamation of, “He’s lovely! Please! You must help!”

The following day the Light sends her with a glimmering message etched in a solidified rainbow that the names were mixed up this year. At the announcement, Yuuri’s eyes become almost comically huge, but like Yuuko before him, he follows the rules (though they’re more hasty to prepare him) and he enters the chamber after embracing his loved ones in a farewell.

The crops end up incredibly plentiful. Before the year ends—truly before the winter comes—a second Light joins the first with hair like a field of stars. He always stands close to the first Light with his long hair like sunrays, with the Hound joyfully running through clouds to cause the village rains.

Sometimes they visit her, though now they have a pair of Hounds. The new one is quite small, but his fur crackles like thunder and his hair covers him like mist.

 

  
**_Then again, no. Consider this._ **

  
  
  


The Ice Madonna, as they call her, is feared universally across the world. INTERPOL cannot hope to  keep up with her, and local authorities don’t stand a chance. 

Her kidskin-gloved right hand rests on an obsidian globe. When she’s bored, she spins it, blindly selects a country, and topples its economy. Then she comes in like a shadow, overthrows the government, and adds yet another nation to her collection like its a piece of heirloom jewelry.

It’s been a year since anyone was a challenge, she thinks as she spins the globe without choosing anyone to bring to their knees. It’s … uninteresting.

It’s been a while since she’s done something fun, like smashing and grabbing important documents or blackmailing an official. Her weekend’s devoid of plans.

_ Why not? _

The Imperial Family of her home nation is bound to have skeletons deep in dark closets. She boards a flight to Narita, wears a white Chanel suit for the dramatic irony, and takes a tour of the grounds that she immediately slips away from.

There’s talk of issues with an estranged heir and impropriety. It sounds delicious. Japan would be nice to add to the menagerie. She cared about it once, so it’s like coming full circle.

It’s so easy to get into the data servers, far too much so. She downloads encrypted files with a smile, but before she can crack them, there’s a click of a safety being removed, the gun aimed right at the back of her head. “Don’t.”

Once upon a time, they were young, in love, and naive. She is a criminal, he is the law. It’s always been doomed between them, but she was foolish then and refused to stay away. “Nishigori.”

“Toyomura.” He doesn’t waver.

She snorts. “When are you going to give it up?”

“Ten minutes after you do,” he says.

“Then that’s ten minutes after I’m in the ground,” she quips.

He sighs. “Toyomura.  _ Yuuko _ . ”

The Ice Madonna is transported to a simpler time in a town about ninety minutes from Fukuoka by train that stands by the shore. Things were easier then, or maybe they faked it better. “Takeshi.”

His gun lowers—not completely, but it lowers.

She stands close to his space and tilts her face up with a soft smile. Her right hand touches his waist underneath his open blazer. “Maybe it’s time to go straight. Maybe you’re right.”

Nishigori sets the gun on the desk. He wraps his arms around her.

Or would, if one wasn’t cuffed to the polished oak desk that must weigh 600 pounds.

The Ice Madonna grabs the gun. She winks, blows a kiss, and bails with his credentials and walkie-talkie also. She ditches the radio in a trash can a few blocks away, but she frames the credentials.

Every tourist appreciates a quality souvenir.

  
  
  


**_Then again—_ **

  
  
  


“The Academy Award winner for Best Supporting Actress goes to—” The handsome yet forgettable winner of last year’s supporting actor category reads. “—Yuuko Toyomura!”

Yuuko hugs her co-stars as she hefts the Vivienne Westwood gold label gown’s hefty green taffeta skirt to ascend the stairs. The orchestra plays the theme of  _ Life and Love _ , the movie for which she was nominated. She kisses the presenter on the cheek as the music draws to a close.

Gown in one hand, statue in the other, Yuuko begins her speech.

  
  
  


**_Hm. Not quite. Perhaps … ?_ **

  
  
  


The Grand Prix Final is in Sochi this year, and after breaking new records at the NHK Trophy and Skate Canada, Japan’s Ace Toyomura Yuuko finds herself in a green room with credentials hanging from a lanyard and the bright blue and black JSF jacket over her costume. 

The Hasetsu citizenry have their hopes pinned on her. Her best childhood friend and his husband, the one who got her deep into skating by showing her the current Living Legend when she was 12, have sent photos of their children (who are growing far too fast)  cheering her on. Their dogs look beleaguered yet happy as their boys climb all over them.

Yuuri and Victor run their hometown Ice Castle, but Yuuko hasn’t trained there since she was fourteen. She moved to Tokyo with a different coach for Juniors, then to Detroit for Celestino Cialdini’s guidance at 19. He has another student about her age in men’s, but Phichit didn’t qualify for the Final. He keeps sending her Instagram DMs of his hamsters and homemade GO YUUKO GO t-shirt, though, and it almost makes her forget the nerves.

The Living Legend is here too in her discipline, and Yuuko watches her across the room in her Russian federation jacket. Mila Babicheva is beautiful and incredibly fierce, she holds the world records in both SP and FS, and her Lilac Fairy program when she was fifteen is why Yuuko is  _ even here _ .

She’s not sure she’s fit to shine her white Riedell boots, but whatever.

Yuuko draws the third slot, Mila draws last. Thank God. No one should have to suffer following her, they’d drop dead of imposter syndrome.

Sara Crispino is often 2nd to Mila’s first, but they’re close friends regardless. Yuuko fidgets with the seams of her sparkling black gloves. Her SP is set to a track that merges the Mariinsky Variation One and Coda of the Black Swan. She’s revered for her spins, which have been carefully worked into the Coda naturally, and after watching her competitor from the United States pop a jump, Yuuko does a breathing exercise as the Zamboni preps for her turn.

Celestino helps her out of her warm up and with her blade guards. All of Japan is watching. Her pride is on the line.

The announcer can’t say Yuuko to save his soul, but her music begins, and she is an elegant force of nature that takes the world by storm. The audience is initially stunned, then her favorite white roses rain onto the ice as well as Pompompurins and Pochaccos in all of their variations.

Celestino compliments her, she sits in the Kiss and Cry, and she’s somehow only four points behind Mila. Yuuko barely hears the numbers, having to read them on the Jumbotron above the center ice.

_ “A new age of figure skating for Japan is being ushered in by their own Ace, Toyomura Yuuko!” _

It may be premature, since she still has the FS tomorrow, but she glows with pride the same. Mila finishes with gold, of course, and Sara gets bronze. Standing just below Mila with silver, Yuuko considers that maybe it wasn’t too early a call, after all.

When Mila offers to take a season off to choreograph for her, Yuuko says yes, then calls Yuuri and Victor to scream.

  
  
  


**_We’re getting closer. Try this—_ **

  
  


When Yuuko is nineteen, she breaks with Japanese and Western Christian tradition to wear a pink dress at her wedding. There’s wisteria framing the outdoor site. She’s lovely, resplendent even, as her fiancé and almost husband Yuuri— 

  
  
  


**_Dear God, no. One more time—-_ **

  
  
  


Yuuko Nishigori sits on a cushion in the common dining room of the Yu-Topia onsen. Her girls lie in piles around and covering Makkachin as they scream at the television. Her husband wipes his eyes as Yuuri performs his “Yuri On Ice” for the first time ever with utter perfection in Barcelona. When the camera pans close on Victor’s face, his eyes are lit with love and glassy with tears. 

Toshiya keeps their drinks full. Hiroko glows as only a proud mother can, which Yuuko knows firsthand thanks to moments like three perfect exam scores brought home before Axel, Lutz, and Loop began their break.

Yuuko hands her husband a pack of Pochacco and Pompompurin tissues from her last visit to a Sanrio store, and as he subtly wipes his eyes, she thinks there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

  
  
  


**_That’s it. Just right._ **

**Author's Note:**

> I loved helping run this project, in no small part due to my mother's current treatment for stage 3 breast cancer, but also because we showcased the ladies of this fantastic anime. 
> 
> I'd apologize for the record scratch two-line section with Yuuri, but we all know I'm not sorry. Also I deeply enjoyed making Victor the pettiest, gayest god ever. 
> 
> Please check out the collection for the other works! Thank you all so much. 
> 
> [Tumblr](https://sinkingorswimming.tumblr.com) / [Twitter](https://twitter.com/sink_or_swim)


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